Lady in White
by Fealiniel
Summary: "Hark! Who is there?" the host had said,/ When the door opened to the night of dread./ The door shut on rain that dashed;/ On wailing wind, thunder crashed./ A lady came, then, out of the gloom,/ In a sodden cloak about a dress – pale as moon.


_Prologue of the Lady in White_

"Hark! Who is there?" the host had said,

When the door opened to the night of dread.

The door shut on rain that dashed;

On wailing wind, thunder crashed.

A lady came, then, out of the gloom,

In a sodden cloak about a dress – pale as moon.

When the cloak she hung upon the hook,

 _they saw her hair long and young her look,_

as through keen eyes she gazed

about the room of pilgrims amazed.

"My name? I have many, and you need them not;

for it is you I have found, as long have I sought."

With movements of grace, she sat before the flame,

Her bearing tranquil, her voice much the same.

Little explanation she gave and not long she stayed,

But of what she did say all here is laid:

S _tory of the Lady in White_

First test

Long I have lived, and far have I walked

through forests green, and much have I talked

with those whom I have seen,

though nary a better time there has been

to tell this lay.

And for a time might you stay

and leave not not so soon

while this city sleeps under moon.

Love is the power that sustains us all,

while afar, under distant king's hall.

Many need this story, as do I,

if tonight into peaceful sleep will fly.

Of this tale no more is sung,

but a love had I when world was young;

His voice was rich with tones so pure

that with songs into peaceful sleep would lure.

With graceful limbs and stature tall,

his face fairer than all in hall.

His mind sharp as sword, his arm as strong;

His aim true with blade and yew bow long.

A love more true there has never been,

love more faithful I have never seen.

Beneath the leaves of spring we met,

an autumn betrothal we wished to set;

But, alas for our elation,

my father thought him below my station.

I begged and pleaded,

but naught he headed.

The shimmering necklace green

of mighty Maethor king,

who in great caverns lush,

dwells above the gates of rivers' rush.

We despaired of hope at this,

for all who leave must taste death's kiss.

But strong and true of heart was he

and calmly took the bridal fee.

Then did I tremble in my fear

for the one whom I hold most dear.

When to his home I went next morn,

he had left, but for me, this would not be borne.

Before the sun could melt the dew,

after him in secret I flew.

Long I had studied in lore;

the maps I knew well, not now as before.

To the north, through the trees of my home,

I ran to the border's edge alone.

Not long it was before a sight I caught,

of my love, whom I had sought.

But back a distance did I stay,

lest he see and send me away.

Apart but together far we walked;

three days the black mountains we stalked.

The fifth day from home peril struck;

a surprise it was, but one musnt trust luck.

A pack of wolves fell, huge and grim,

upon him, lovely in twilight dim.

Helpless when I heard their voices keen,

but entranced, watched the silver blade gleam,

as fluidly it swung,

and dark blood to it clung.

His skill could not save him with blade

as a wolf struck in the dark glade.

For vile throat a blade arced down

but first fell he from biting wolf brown.

In my despair nearly I did fall

from my perch as the beast did maul

the weakened limbs of my deathless love.

Away from the sight I flew like a dove

little could my pining heart know

I'd be in his arms with the morrow.

As I lay there weeping,

for fain could I be sleeping,

a stealthy, armored band I heard;

I, with courage about me gird

slunk through the darkling leaves

and saw dark ellyn, swords in sheaths.

As they toward my love did creep

I nearly did at them leap,

but arrow on string did keep,

and astounded then did I see

them wash his wound below the knee;

then with clean linen bind it up,

and they bid he with them sup.

When next the twilight did arrive

he asked why they kept him alive

and why they far from Andram were.

"The wolves we tracked far for their fur,

little threat did they pose

for our king so bellicose."

As their leader spoke others began to seep

into a dark and dreamless sleep.

"And as for you, our king may wish

to fling your body over his walls

after to you he questioning calls."

At this he lay down and slept,

but dread upon my love had crept.

A lament he wove

low and clear the pure notes strove

for understanding of love distraught,

of love for me while by the foe caught.

He feared that I soon would know

the terrors that about the lands flow.

last he sang of the love he had

without which he would be mad.

Out of the bushes then I walk,

and naught could he do but gawk.

When from that space we snuck

and under forest eves we duck,

I sang him my own song in kind;

a song of power in love I find

of healing heart, of giving hope,

and with all pain to cope.

Of knitting bone and mending skin,

of the power of the life within.

Quickly then we went to rest

as of strength this was but a first test.

* * *

-Maethor will turn out to be Finrod once the lovers reach him.

About the happenings of this story: Yes, for those who may have guessed this was inspired by the Lay of Lethian. But as it was written as a school assignment it retains some Canterbury Tales format (which was the nature of the assignment) and was not at the start intended to be a fanfiction, which it is now. (…Now that I think about it that's how a goodly portion of my creative writing has been turning out… )

Also, there is more planed and it is pending reader response- meaning if you like the poetry format it will continue as poetry, if you like the story but misrepresentation of poetic form is distracting, it can be continued in prose.

Finally: This is my first story and I'm working out the ins and outs of the whole submission process, so if there's a formatting or process error I happen to be making advice is appreciated. Also I don't normally write poetry and have not had any real education in its writing, so reviews and suggestions are appreciated in this vein as well. -Thanks

About the happenings of this story: Yes, for those who may have guessed this was inspired by the Lay of Lethian. But as it was written as a school assignment it retains some Canterbury Tales format (which was the nature of the assignment) and was not at the start intended to be a fanfiction, which it is now. (…Now that I think about it that's how a goodly portion of my creative writing has been turning out… )

Also, there is more planed and it is pending reader response- meaning if you like the poetry format it will continue as poetry, if you like the story but misrepresentation of poetic form is distracting, it can be continued in prose

Finally: This is my first story and I'm working out the ins and outs of the whole submission process, so if there's a formatting or process error I happen to be making advice is appreciated. Also I don't normally write poetry and have not had any real education in its writing, so reviews and suggestions are appreciated in this vein as well. -thanks


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